


I Give Much More, Than I’d Ever Ask For

by doorstepdreams



Series: Missing Scenes [10]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Domestic Fluff, Oblivious Jack, Pre-Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, The Haus, pre-zimbits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 07:25:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13453329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doorstepdreams/pseuds/doorstepdreams
Summary: Some sweet Jack-Knows-But-He-Doesn't pigtail pulling with a Definitely-Knows-Bitty with some Holsom moments and Lardo being extremely Lardo.





	I Give Much More, Than I’d Ever Ask For

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hamburg Song by Keane
> 
> beta as always by my dear WrathoftheStag

Bitty’s eyes screw up at the sound of the lawnmower outside. Which of the boys were mowing the dang lawn this early? When exactly did the boys start mowing the dang lawn, anyway?

As cohesive thought returns he realizes that he’s scrunched up against a warm body and the lawnmower is coming from a person next to him.

“You awake, Bittleskittles?”

Holster’s voice is low and rumbly and Bitty just wants to go back asleep. Curiosity at his current position wins over and he opens his eyes. He takes in the fact that he’s in the living room, on the couch, nestled into Holster’s warm side as he taps away at his laptop, and Ransom is asleep (and snoring) on Holster’s other side.

“Mgghhff,” is his attempt at a reply. He reaches across Holster’s arms and pats Ransom’s mouth until he snorts and the lawnmower stops.

“Whutthafu?”

“Sorry brah, you woke Bitty up. He’s not used to The Saw.”

“Mmmpph, I should prolly get up too. Sorry, Bits.”

Ransom reaches a hand over and blindly squeezes Bitty’s until Holster nudges them both away from his laptop keyboard.

Both boys sleepily sit up and stretch before each giving Holster a hug.

“Sorry we fell asleep on you, Holtzy!”

“Sorry, man! How’d we end up down here, anyway?”

Holster absentmindedly pets them both on the cheek in turn. “You offered to stay up and keep me company while I ass blasted this essay, and both of you fell the fuck asleep at like, two.”

“You get it done at least?”

Ransom leans into his space to read the screen while Bitty stretches his legs out and contemplates the kitchen, wondering if group breakfast would be possible before they all have class.

“First draft done and a half-assed second draft and that’s gonna have to be goooood-eeeee-nuff.”

Ransom takes the laptop without a word and begins trying to whole-ass the second draft for him when they all hear the front door bang open.

The rush of scudding rain is loud. Jack is just visible through the living room doorway, dripping wet with squelching shoes.

“Yoooooo! When did it start raining?” Ransom calls out without looking up.

“Bout five minutes into my run.”

Jack’s expression is exasperated but satisfied as always after a tough workout, and he strips off his wet hoodie, t-shirt and shorts. He shuffles around in only his running tights as he wrings out the wet clothes in the open door and then sits on the floor of the hallway to remove his shoes.

He seems oblivious, or simply accustomed, to all three boys on the couch watching his every spandex-covered move.

Holster puts a finger under Bitty’s chin and pops his mouth closed. He’s staring just as much himself, but with a kind of frustrated arousal as opposed to Bitty’s obvious lust.

Holster harrumphs. “Is it somewhere in Jack’s model genes that he doesn’t experience shrinkage or what?”

The entire couch shakes with suppressed laughter when Jack casts a suspicious glare their way.

Ransom reaches an arm across Holster and nudges Bitty in the side conspiratorially.

“It’s Haus rules that all gays get to hover around Jack when he’s half-naked, man. Go get an eyeful. He won’t care.”

“Why else do you think a third of the LAX team make excuses to come over and risk the fragile peace that exists between our houses?” Holster adds, raising an eyebrow at Bitty and nudging him too.

Bitty smiles a little impishly and scrambles up and over to Jack’s side.

“Here, Jack, lemme put those in the dryer for you.” He goes to take the sneakers out of Jack’s hand but Jack holds on tighter.

“Bits, you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind! Better than your favorite shoes getting even more disgusting ‘n’ they already are.”

There is a bit of a mock tug-of-war between them until Jack lets Bitty overpower him and they head down to the basement.

“I know but… I don’t want you to think you have to like, _look after us_ , just because you know how to be an adult and we don’t.”

Jack had noticed the slight hesitation in Bitty’s steps down the stairs between the first and last part of his comment, but doesn’t say anything. The rest of the Haus has come to realize that Bitty seems to need giving the help more than any of them actually need it themselves.

Bitty’s smile is slightly bashful as he opens the dryer door and ties the shoes’ laces together.

“You know me, Jack! I can’t just sit around all day like those two lumps, I gotta be doin’ somethin’ productive.” He dangles Jack’s sneakers over the dryer door and fiddles with the settings. “You make us all look bad with how hard you work, lord. I can’t think how much I’d get done if I got up at five every mornin’!”

Jack leans his back against the dryer and grins down at Bitty.

“You mean, how many more pies you could bake?”

Bitty’s smile glows in the muffled sunlight filtering through the dusty basement window. He’s holding onto the edge of the dryer, bare arms just touching Jack’s.

Jack takes his lack of response as an opportunity to push his former point again.

“I’m serious, Bits,” he says in a more serious tone, nudging him gently. “I know you like baking, but you know you can just do that for yourself? Don’t think that any of the guys would actually get mad if you stopped making them whatever they want.”

The sudden turn in Bitty’s expression takes him by surprise. He seems almost frustrated, even a little angry.

“Is this some kind of,” he pauses and seems to consider his wording. “Is there somethin’ you want to say to me, Jack?” He’s wringing his hands together now and won’t look at Jack. “‘Cause after [what you said at Annie’s](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11814585) about me always being around, I just. I wouldn’t wanna be an---”

“Whoa, whoa! Hey, I didn’t say anything like that!” Jack stands up straight and puts a hand on the back of Bitty’s head. “Hey, bud. Come on,” he tilts Bitty’s head gently so that he looks at Jack. “Seriously, Bits, you know what I said. I said I didn’t want any of _us_ to be like a burden on you because you feel like, I don’t know. Like we wouldn’t want you around if you weren’t always doing stuff for us.”

The tears aren’t quite as jarring to Jack now as they once were, and he rests his arm around Bitty’s shoulders and let’s him snuffle against Jack’s chest.

“It’s really nice getting to come home to someone baking in the kitchen,” he continues, keeping his voice gentle. “But I just don’t want you to think we’re taking you for granted, eh? Just do it if it makes you happy. We want you around no matter what, okay?”

“You’re so sweet,” Bitty mumbles, a little watery. “I’m sorry, I get kinda freaked out sometimes that I’m here. It’s like I keep expecting to wake on up and be back home, havin’ to go to gym class with all my daddy’s football team. You know? Well, of course you don’t know but… ”

He finishes on a shrug, blowing his nose on an old tissue from his pocket. He only just misses the conflicted expression on Jack’s face.

“It’s kinda stingy of me, too. It’s not like Rans, Shitty or Holtzy ever hide their feelings much,” Bitty chuckles. “I’d never have expected three boys so eager to tell me they love me and wanna ‘smite all mine enemies’. And I know you and Lardo don’t out and out say it, but don’t think I’m not giving you credit.”

He wags a finger up into Jack’s face tauntingly. Jack grabs it and pretends to stick it up his own nose to make Bitty laugh.

“I mean, I probably wouldn’t ‘smite’ them but I’d get my dad to beat them up for sure.”

“Oh hush, Mr. NHL! I’ve got a fear you’re gonna get on the ice in Chicago or Philly and be as ready to beat down as your daddy was. I’ll be watchin’ through my fingers I can tell you that.”

Jack leans his elbows on top of the dryer as he stretches each of his calves out behind him in turn. The rumble of the machine feels soothing up his arms and into his shoulders.

“Why’d you do that with them?” he asks curiously, gesturing at the rumbling dryer. “With the laces?”

Bitty smiles all over at Jack picking up conversation again and seeming content to hang out.

“It’s so they don’t bang around in there. And you gotta keep the heat low so the rubber doesn’t get all melty and the fabric keeps its shape.”

“You mean,” Jack is grinning at eye-level with Bitty as he holds onto the dryer backwards and lowers both legs out in front of him. “So they don’t suffer any _shrinkage_?”

His arms are so ridiculously defined as he pushes himself up and down with them that it takes Bitty a moment to catch the double entendre.

“Oh my GOD, Jack!” Bitty howls, covering his face with both hands. “You heard that?!”

Jack stands back up and looms over him a little, attempting to make a stern expression. “You bet I did. What would your momma think of her little boy laughing at jokes about Jack Zimmermann’s dick, eh? _What would moomaw say?!_ Moomaw doesn’t wanna know about my dick! Geez!”

He scoops Bitty up with an arm around his waist and mimes dumping him in the dryer as Bitty wriggles and yelps. They wrestle partially in mid-air a little until Jack almost loses his grip and has to drop Bitty on top of the dryer.

“Whoa, Bits, get ahold of yourself!” Jack laughs as he lets Bitty disentangle his arms and get settled safely.

The moment they settle down, Bitty becomes distinctly aware of the hot metal dryer vibrating under his butt where his shorts have ridden up. There is a wonderfully horrifying fractional moment where Jack’s arms are still bracketing him, their faces are pressed close, and everything slows down to where Bitty is dying to lock his socked feet around Jack’s waist and crush himself against Jack’s bare chest.

There is no time for Bitty to really know if Jack had been in the moment with him.

Lardo’s presence is as always startlingly loud when she bangs open the basement door and clomps down the steps, a tatty canvas bag of clothes in her arms.

Bitty jerks away on instinct but Jack doesn’t. He moves away only slightly and casually slaps at Bitty’s thighs as he pulls his hands back.

“Hey, shipdits,” Lardo says cordially, flinging the bag onto the floor next to the washer where it spills open.

“Lar- _dooo_!” Bitty scolds her to distract himself from how his heart is pounding. “Your clothes are all over the dirty floor now!”

Lardo kicks Jack in the shin to give her room and scoffs. “Uhhh yah, I knooow! They’re dirty and now I’m washing them. Chuh, Bits, learn how to do house work.”

Jack amuses himself watching the two of them play-slap at each other when Bitty tries to keep the washing powder away from her, before reaching over both their heads and grabbing the already-opened box.

“Fuckin’ cheater Jolly Green McFuckin’ giant,” Lardo mutters, grabbing the box out of Jack’s hand and slapping Bitty’s knee one last time. “Haven’t you two got shit to do besides playing around all damn day?”

Jack sighs. “Yeah, I have a ton of emails to get back to. C’mon Bits, you’ve got class in fifteen minutes.”

He stands back and holds out his hands the way the guys always do when helping Bitty and Lardo down from things. But Bitty doesn’t budge, actually grabs onto the edge of the dryer a little tighter.

“Um, actually I need to talk to Lardo about somethin’?”

His face is rapidly turning apple-red and Jack’s expression softens.

“Ooooh, is it about boys?”

Lardo makes a vomiting sound as she finishes loading her clothes. Bitty masks a pained expression beneath a smile.

“Kinda, yeah.”

Jack makes a jokey display of backing away from them and putting up his hands.

“Okay, okay, I’m going. Just don’t talk about me, eh?” he chortles as he turns and climbs up the steps.

Bitty exhales when he’s finally out of sight.

Lardo looks up at him curiously, then glances down to where he’s slightly hunched in on himself. All of her teeth show as she smiles bigger than Bitty has ever seen her sober.

“Duhhhuuuuuude. Dude,” she gasps, trying to keep her laughter quiet. “Did you get a boner from riding the dryer while you were wrestling Jack?!”

Bitty makes a sound very like a dying animal and practically throws himself onto the floor in agony.

“Better put me in the washer too, Lards,” he whimpers pathetically. “I’m... _dirty_.”

**Author's Note:**

> [on Tumblr](https://jack-manpain-zimmermann.tumblr.com/post/170014079220/i-give-much-more-than-id-ever-ask-for)


End file.
